Cedar Bowl, North Platte, Nebraska, October 9, 2003


Behind the motel, there's a big pond and a lovely little picnic area.


But first, one must get around the fence, and rather than walk a small ways, I decide to hop the fence, and since my shoes don't seem fence-hoppable, I do it without them, and I have some trouble getting over, so Steve must help me, and then I land in a pile of nasty little spiky things which I must stand on with one foot while Steve peels them out of the other .....  These are photos of me peeling the remaining spikies out of my socks, the blood that results, and Steve's demonstration of their hanging-on-ability.  Steve is a sweetheart and much help all through this traumatic experience.


Pretty autumn Nebraska trees.


Lousy sketch of pretty autumn Nebraska trees.



Steve Sabo and I stumble upon a gem of a place for dinner.  It's an atmosphere-rich diner with a menu including everything from Mexican to Italian to meat and potatoes, etc.  I grabbed the local paper, ironically named "Happenings," which Steve enjoys before dinner.  It's one sheet, folded.  As we address it's small size, the table next to us explains how it's not the main local paper, and before we know it, the entire restaurant is participating in our conversation.


Not exactly the high point of my career -- I work a bowling alley...


...with a drive-thru.


Steve decides he needs to "show" me "how to pour a beer," explaining how a can of Guinness is one pint, and a glass is one pint, so it'll fit perfectly.  He opens his can, holds it upside down, and I clear my stuff off the table.  I have just poured my own Guinness, my glass is full to the brim, and my can is still a third full.  Yes, you guessed it, Steve spills his beer.  Now he complains about how this bowling alley we're working in doesn't have pint glasses.  Yeah, expect that.



The plains grass behind the motel blowing in the midnight wind .... The midnight full moon.